Timelines
by spacemonkey766
Summary: For six months they had to adjust to life without him and when he first returned, he wasn't really Barry. He was like a memory, an image from what felt like another time, familiar but not really there. But he was here, he was real, and now they just had to be patient as Barry tried to find his way back home. [season 4]


**Timelines**

summary: For six months they had to adjust to life without him and when he first returned, he wasn't really Barry. He was like a memory, an image from what felt like another time, familiar but not really there. But he was here, he was real, and now they just had to be patient as Barry tried to find his way back home.

genre: Family , Angst

rated: T

authors note: title inspiration and lyrics are from "Timelines" by Fractures

* * *

 **So far back but, only a little**

 **Don't own what's mine, it's only a little**

 **Follow or fold, some sort of riddle**

 **Can't match, can't follow**

 **Come back, can't find, comfort, confined,**

 **Can't fight, timelines, turn back, turn tide**

 **Hold back, hold line, pick at, all that's after**

 **The compass says to follow**

* * *

When he first returned, he wasn't Barry. He would look around, seemingly unsure and on edge. It wasn't that he didn't recognize them but he wasn't seeming to register if they were real or not. He would look them in the eyes with a curious intensity, a strange mix of sadness and indifference. But suddenly Iris was able to finally crack through the fogged glass that kept him separated from them, was able to get through to him, grabbing his hands and putting them against her face. He could feel her warmth, touch her skin, and seemed to start to come out of his daze. And suddenly it was as if he was awake for the first time since they found him. He realized he was no longer in the void of the Speed Force where time didn't exist, where past and future connected in cyclical loop with no present; where the images of his life replaying over and over were just reflections of his memory, where he was not a person but instead a non-corporeal extension of an energy that stretched across the multiverse. But as he felt the warmth of her flesh against his, the sensation of the worn gray shirt stretched across his torso, the itchiness of the beard on his jaw, and the chill of the recycled air in the medbay hovering around them, he realized this was no vision of a future or mirage of the past, but that he had returned to the present. He was alive, they were in front of him, he was here and this was now.

* * *

When Barry first returned, he was quiet. He didn't speak a word to them, not as if he couldn't speak but almost as if he wasn't sure how to; how to sound, how to phrase, how to inflect, how to be Barry. He'd nod and smile occasionally, but mostly he went where they led him, followed where they directed, and drank everything in not as if it was the first time he was seeing it all but like it was the second; familiar but not nearly enough. He was slowly trying to put the pieces of his life in order, organizing the timeline of his life from the jumbled mess, like when you dumped a jigsaw puzzle on the floor in order to put together the picture. It wasn't unlike when he lost his memory when they zapped him trying to stop Savitar. But the memories weren't absent this time, they were just slowly coming to the surface; like background noise he couldn't quite hear well enough to recognize the sounds but was still trying to listen closely. They could almost see the thoughts circling in his head as things came back to him. He would linger in a room as if he could hear the echoes of the past reverberating in the walls, would touch framed photos with delicate fingers as if grabbing the frozen moment, would listen intently to every word that came out of their mouths as if each sentence strung to the one before till he could remember every thing they'd ever said to him.

It took a few days but they all noticed when everything began clicking back into place. He started to leave a room without looking like he was in fear of never returning, could walk by a framed photo without needing to pluck it from where it was displayed to study the captured memory because he could now recall it on his own, would participate in conversations rather than just listening to them silently. The blank face was suddenly replaced by Barry Allen's; his eyes softened to that warm blend of pain and joy that was so uniquely Barry and the slight upturn of his lips that always resembled a shy smile. The unsure posture suddenly morphed into the way Barry had carried himself, relaxed but slightly fidgety with energy. All of a sudden the white canvas disappeared and standing in front of them was the big heart, strength, vulnerability, and lovable nerd who was struck by lightning and transformed into a hero.

* * *

When Barry returned, his hands were almost always in contact with something. He would move his hand across walls as he walked down hallways, palms spread out feeling the texture as if it was something he'd never felt before. When he would stand by furniture, a hand would reach out to brace himself as if he was at risk of floating away and needed the anchor. When holding things they noticed how his thumb would trace its shape, when letting things go his fingers would slowly and reluctantly slide away. When he was near Iris though he would reach for her hand instantly, rarely breaking eye contact when in conversation or missing a beat, his hand blindly finding hers. It would be tense at first but she would squeeze it reassuringly and the grip would relax, almost as if it was a reassurance that yes, he was here and he was with her.

It was when one night at the West home where Wally had brought it up to Joe and Iris. He mentioned a lecture in his Psychology class where they discussed Post Traumatic Stress Disorder. He shared with them the passage in his text book about how people suffering from PTSD would identify things around them to touch as a symptom reduction and coping mechanism for their anxiety. As they touched objects around them in their heads they would describe them, the texture, the color. It was called 'grounding' and it it took them out of their head and brought them to the present by concentrating and focusing on the object in front of them, gaining a sense of control to stop themselves from being flooded by their unwanted thoughts. It was a valid suggestion but the truth was they weren't sure and didn't want to upset Barry by calling him out on it. They weren't even sure if Barry realized he was doing it. Maybe it was that, maybe it was because it assured him this was all real, or maybe it was out of fear of not having something to hold onto in case he was pulled away.

When Iris saw him linger in the bathroom, running water over his hands for a few minutes, she feared Wally might be right about the grounding techniques and PTSD. But when she saw him graze his fingers gently and admiringly, with a small smile on his face, over the leather bound books on their bookshelf in their apartment, the ones that had used to be on display in Henry Allen's office at his medical practice, Iris thought maybe he was just enjoying the tactile sensation again. It was when he was in the Cortex and backed away from the console to follow the conversation as the team moved to the medbay that Iris saw him tense up once no longer in contact with the desk. She moved towards him, taking it upon herself to reach for his hand before he could reach for hers, sliding her hand into his slightly shaking palm and gripping it tight. His body instantly relaxed and he smiled down at her gratefully.

Maybe it was post traumatic stress from being in the Speed Force, for not being alive, for experiencing his lifetime infinite times over in a place where time had no meaning. Maybe it was just the need to have that touch sensation produced by the pressure receptors in the skin of his hand, enjoying the cold of the concrete wall as he walked past it or the silk of the sheets he gripped tight at night because he could feel again. Or maybe it was simply because he wanted to stay, the fear of being taken away from everything he knew and loved all over again pushing all logic from his brain as he gripped the world around him tight like a child fisting the string of his first balloon. But as Iris held his hand even tighter than he held hers, if she was being honest with herself, she shared the same illogical fear that if she didn't hold on, he would disappear.

* * *

When Barry returned, Joe didn't want to let him out of his sight. He'd convinced them to stay with him at the house till Barry felt a little more centered in his gravity now that he had returned to corporeal state after being extra dimensional energy. Most of his memories had returned but it was the little things they would catch him looking at with uncertainty that reminded them all just what Barry had been through, that it may take awhile for him to return completely. Like when Joe was with Barry in the changing room attached to the speed lab at STAR Labs getting ready to finally go home.

Joe had been talking to Barry, facing the opposite direction as the young man changed, when he realized he was no longer getting a response. He turned to find Barry sitting on the bench, dressed, and staring down at the untied converse sneakers on his feet with a level of concentration Joe usually only saw when he was working in the lab. Joe knelt down in front of where Barry sat, placing one hand on Barry's knee and the other gently against the side of his face. The gesture caused Barry to raise his down cast eyes to meet his father's and Joe could see it was more than just concentration, but frustration and embarrassment. Joe said nothing as he pulled his hands away and moved them to the laces on Barry's left shoe. He crossed and looped them slowly until a tight bow was made at the tongue of the sneaker. Joe looked up to Barry whose brow was furrowed, and patted his knee before pushing himself up to his feet. Barry lifted his right leg up then, knee to his chest as he rested his foot at the edge of the bench and mimicked what Joe had just done to this shoe, tying it perfectly. Barry flashed him a shy smile in silent thanks as he stood, Joe clapping him on the back, smiling in return as they headed home.

Things like a questioning look at the drawers in the West household kitchen before the memory hit him which one possessed the silverware reminded Joe of when Barry first moved in with them when he was eleven and was trying to familiarize himself with the details of his new home. He looked on in anticipation as Barry looked over the pizza menu, asking first for a plain cheese pizza. Joe didn't voice his disappointment as he lifted the phone to order but it turned into relief when Barry called out to Joe to hold on a moment before changing his order and requesting pepperoni, olives and jalapeños on the pizza instead.

It was the little details of his life that were coming back slowly but they could all be patient with him because Barry had returned. Joe just wished Barry would be more patient with himself. Like the night he offered to make coffee after dinner. Barry had gathered the cream and sugars, confident until he stood there staring at the four mugs steaming with freshly brewed dark roast, trying to remember how each of them liked theirs. He had prepared Joe's, Iris' and his thousands of times over the years, knew how Wally liked his, but he stared at the kitchen counter as if the mugs themselves would provide the answers. The other three members of the family could hear the curse from where they sat waiting in the dining room. Joe raised a hand to halt both Iris and Wally from rising from their seats and he hesitatingly moved toward the kitchen. The sight of Barry hunched over, hands braced against the counter and visibly shaking reminded Joe of when Barry was twelve and attempted to make his mother's signature sugar cookies from memory. He had wanted to surprise Iris with them for her birthday because he remembered how much she liked them when his mom would bake for them during play dates at the Allen house. Barry had helped his mom make them dozens of times but he couldn't remember everything that went into them. So he had stood in front of a bowl of sugar, flour and eggs abandoned on the counter for an hour, crying silently because he missed his mom and couldn't remember everything about her like he wanted.

Joe did the same thing now as he did then, a gentle but strong hand resting on Barry's shoulder to let him know that he was here for him. Barry responded now the same way he did then, turning towards Joe and letting the older man pull him towards him, his arms wrapping around the boy because he would forever be Joe's boy, holding him close as Joe could feel Barry's arms lift behind his back and fist the material of his shirt as he cried.

As Joe held him Barry whispered about how stupid it was, how it was just coffee, but Joe shushed him, rubbing circles around Barry's back and telling him that it was okay. It wasn't just about coffee. It was Barry trying to pick up where he left off even though so much had changed, within him and without him while he was away. Joe viewed it as someone being released from solitary confinement. Being locked away with no reprieve, no connection to your world; it leaves a person scrambled and feeling like a drifter when they return. Your life before begins to fade away, almost seeming like some sort of a dream, only then to be thrust back into it takes its toll. It must be frightening and frustrating for Barry to not sink back into it right away.

The self berating turned into apologizing, 'I'm sorry' repeated over and over in a breathy whisper as silent tears rolled down Barry's cheeks. Joe knew he wasn't apologizing for not remembering their coffee preferences, or for breaking down now. As he felt Barry fist the material on the back of his shirt tighter, he knew his son was apologizing for leaving. Joe held Barry tighter then, one hand moving to the back of his head as Barry's face pressed against Joe's shoulder. All control he had tried so hard to maintain just slipped away the instant his father reached out to him.

But the days following, Barry seemed more confident in going about things as normal. He and Iris were back at their apartment, his training exercises with Cisco and Wally showed he was nearly back into Flash form, itching to suit up and get out there helping people again, and he was even declaring himself ready to go back to work at CCPD soon. It had only been a couple weeks since they broke him out of the Speed Force and Joe was hesitant. He wasn't sure if it was because he didn't know if Barry was ready, or if Joe was ready to see his son be at the edge of danger almost daily again, especially now considering Barry's speed seemed to increase exponentially since having spent time in the Speed Force. Maybe it was because despite all his amazing feats, he was still Barry Allen, who occasionally ran into things despite his fast reflexes.

After returning to the West house after meeting with Singh to discuss his return, Barry sat on the couch, Joe sitting on the coffee table right in front of him, gently wiping at the blood from the two inch long cut on his forehead Barry had received after bumping into a kitchen cabinet he forgot he left open while speeding around preparing lunch.

 _'Only Barry'_ Joe thought to himself as he tended to his superhero son.

"Joe, it's fine," Barry sighed, slightly amused. "It's just gonna heal in a few minutes."

"Would you just shut up and let me take care of you, please," Joe said with mock irritation, earning an eye roll from the young man. As Joe finished cleaning the wound with the damp cloth he could see the cut was already mostly closed. This would have been a handy ability to have when Barry was growing up, especially after his growth spurt. Seemingly over night the little four foot nothing kid who was shorter than his daughter sprung up to nearly Joe's height, lanky awkward and accident prone, bumping into things, tripping over his own feet.

Joe's musings were interrupted as Barry chuckled.

"And what's so funny?" Joe asked, leaning back where he sat to see his son smirking at him.

"I was just thinking about the time Iris and I crashed your convertible into that tree," Barry laughed again, looking up at Joe.

"There ain't nothing funny about that," Joe crossed his arms, not aggravated but confused as to where this was going.

"No, it was horrible," Barry leaned forward, arms resting on his knees with his hands clasped between them. "Iris broke her arm, I got this scar on my forehead and my first concussion. You were so relieved that we were okay, you didn't even ground us. And we felt so guilty that we grounded ourselves. Didn't go out after school, didn't use our computers or phones. But you barely a said to word to us for days. And I remember it was like three days later, Iris was up in her room studying and I had this massive headache. I was lying on the couch, trying to rest, hands covering my pounding head. I didn't even hear you come into the living room until you sat down right where you are now and you pulled my hands away and put one of those soft icepacks on my head."

As Barry talked, Joe got lost in the memory. Listening to Barry recount it, the detail and the almost fondness of the recall had Joe almost feeling like he was back in that moment. He had been so relieved they made it out of that accident with minor injuries. Being a cop he knew and had seen how bad accidents like that could be. He remembered not really speaking to his kids, mad about the car, but more frustrated and disheartened in their behavior. But he didn't yell, didn't punish. All he said to them was that he was very disappointed in them and left it at that. It had crushed both Barry and Iris; they'd almost prefer him to be mad. So they were on their best behavior, punishing themselves, and Joe secretly beamed in pride because god, his kids were good kids and even good kids make mistakes. But when he found Barry lying on the couch, silent tears of pain rolling down his cheeks, Joe knew he had to break the silence. He had sat down on the table and pressed a cold pack wrapped in a thin towel against the sixteen year old's head. He remembered Barry looking up at him with grateful, pained eyes, and had tried apologizing. Joe had tried to shush him but Barry wouldn't stop trying to apologize, trying to sit up to talk to him. But Joe gently shoved him back down to the couch, pressing the cold compress to his head and told him to 'shut up and let me take care of you.' Barry had just smiled sadly and thanked him, lying back to let his adoptive dad help ease his pain.

"I wasn't silent to punish you guys. I was silent because I was having a hard time stomaching the idea of losing you two," Joe smiled sadly up at Barry, reaching a hand out to cover Barry's clasped ones. "You kids are my world. The thought of losing you, it's like I can't breathe."

"I know," Barry nodded, looking at Joe with a sincerity in his eyes that reminded him of that night. "I'm sorry I put you through that, Joe."

And suddenly Joe knew Barry wasn't talking about that night twelve years ago anymore. But the vivid memory told Joe that Barry had returned to them finally, his fractured memory creating a completed picture and Joe finally felt whole again too. He couldn't relate to the feeling of having your life taken away only to return in pieces, couldn't empathize with the experience Barry had just had, or understand what it was like to feel like your grip on your life was weakened. But he knew what loss felt like, what it felt like to be stuck as the world carried on, to feel helpless and hopeless as things slipped away. But Barry had returned to them; the loss was healed, he could move forward, and his grip held tightly to his son, vowing to never let him slip away again.

* * *

When Barry returned, Cisco wouldn't stop trying to make him smile. A joke, a perfectly timed movie quote, inviting Barry to sit with him and watch a shared favorite movie or reminiscing; Cisco tried everything and anything. Cisco enjoyed making his friends laugh, but Barry's was by far the best. He never threw his head back, it was as if his whole body reacted in amusement, sometimes leaning back and sometimes folding over in laughter. It would start as a low chuckle but could roll into a high pitched giggle, unhindered and unreserved. It was in those moments of unadulterated joy that Cisco could see the pain that was always hidden behind Barry's smile disappear for a moment. And Barry's pain ran deep, scars received before they even met and many that Cisco witnessed him suffer first hand. If he could bring a little joy to the man that gave so much for everyone, then Cisco would gladly try to provide as often as possible.

Cisco hadn't always liked his life growing up. There were a lot of times he'd wished he could change things, the family that never got him, a public school that couldn't keep up with his level of genius that isolated him from the other kids, even the other nerds. But it all led him to STAR Labs, a job where he could tinker and create, an insane existence that kept him on his toes even before he discovered he had powers, and a group of friends that became the family he had always wanted. He loved each of them, working alongside them, protecting the city, and the moments in between that knitted them together. They were a family, winning and losing as a team, and despite the long and difficult hours of being a superhero team, still choosing to spend even their limited free time together. And at the center of that, the tie that brought them all together, was Barry Allen. It was Barry's coma that kept he and Caitlin at STAR Labs, wanting to do some good after causing so much harm to Central City. It was Barry's new powers that created their team, it was his family, Joe, Iris and later Wally, that he brought into Cisco's world and let them become his family too. Cisco cared for them all, loved being the guy they turned to when things got heavy to lighten the mood and bring some levity. But since Barry's disappearance into the Speed Force, he had found it difficult being that for them, found it difficult to be that person.

He had missed his friend so much, felt the loss deeper than anything he'd felt before. It wasn't like when Caitlin left them to become Killer Frost because he still had hope to help her because she was still out there. It wasn't like when Ronnie died because even though they were close, his connection with Barry was stronger with everything they'd been through together. And if Cisco was being honest with himself, it wasn't even like when he lost Dante because as much as he loved his brother, sometimes the family you choose is stronger than the family you are born with. And Barry was his family, his brother. They understood each other on a fundamental level neither had experienced before with anyone else because of what they held in common, a fierce loyalty, a shared love of nerdy interests, and the acceptance of each other for exactly as they were; no false pretense, no need to impress, just love. They were brothers, and Cisco felt that absence in his heart in a way he never could have anticipated. When Barry was gone, he couldn't help but think about the time he'd wasted this past year trying to make Barry suffer after discovering about the changes to the timeline he'd inadvertently caused. Now that Barry was back, he didn't want to waste any chance to make his best friend happy. So he joked, made quips, threw popcorn at Barry from across the room, proposed movie nights and video game marathons. It was like old times, except now Cisco didn't take any reaction for granted, smiling when Barry did, smiling when the rest of his team did, grateful because they hadn't smiled this big in six months.

But when Barry returned, it was when Barry made him smile that Cisco would remember as the moment it became real that his friend had finally found his way back home to them. They had their feet propped up against the console in the cortex while the city was quiet, watching 'Wrath of Kahn' on the monitor for what must have been the twentieth time since they became friends. And then came the iconic ending that every time prior, Cisco would turn to Barry and speak along with Spock as he declared his eternal friendship. But this time Cisco was seeing the scene with new eyes.

As Kirk called out for Spock, watched him dying in the chamber after sacrificing himself to save the Enterprise, his team, Cisco could feel the lump forming in his throat. As Spock told Kirk not to grieve, that the needs of the many outweigh the needs of the one, the image on the screen disappeared in front of his eyes and all Cisco could see as he heard the words spoken was Barry disappearing into the Speed Force. He had given up his life to save them, to save the city, leaving everyone he loved behind, being the Flash, and the life he was about to start with Iris. Cisco didn't need to vibe to be transported back to that night, the memory imprinted forever in his mind as one of the worst days of his life. Saying goodbye sucked, especially when you didn't know if you'd ever see your best friend again.

A hand on his shoulder pulled him from his memory and thrust him back into the present. He turned to face the source of the interruption, Barry looking at him with a full beam smile that Cisco swore lit up the room, void of any pain but maybe just a glimmer of regret knowing the type of pain he'd put his friends through in his absence.

"I have been," Barry said, his voice drowning out the sound of Spock on the screen in front of them, "and always shall be your friend."

Cisco who just had been on the verge of tears suddenly burst out into laughter, Barry joining along. And just like that, the world made sense again. Their friendship was a cornerstone for Team Flash; not at its best when they weren't at their best together. That had been proven a few times this past year, and especially the last six months. But here, now, Cisco felt like it was as if they'd been given a fresh start, like they were the two guys they were when this whole crazy ride started over three years ago. The light was back, Barry was home, and Cisco could laugh again.

* * *

When Barry returned, Iris would stare. She would watch him dress, pulling sweaters over his long arms, sweaters that she had taken to wearing these past six months to keep her warm during cold nights rather than her own shirts because it felt good against her skin like when he would hold her in his long arms. She watched him button up flannels she hadn't dared to wash even after sleeping in them because they smelled like him, the unique blend of coffee, vanilla from his hair pomade, and a sweet chemical zing from the lightning he generated, the scent that was beginning to fade from the fabric as she absorbed it her own skin as she slept and drank in the residual intoxicating remnant of the man she loved. She watched him with an unwavering focus as he laced up his converse sneakers, like she had seen him do countless times their entire lives, but seeing them on his feet rather than in a pile at the bottom of their closet meant he was here to fill them.

She found herself staring at his eyes, unable to tear her gaze from the green that was flecked and with blues and browns, interwoven in a pattern that reminded Iris of the images of galaxies taken by telescopes that used to hang in Barry's room as a kid. She'd read once that green eyes were the rarest of eye colors. That they were the only eye color that changes, becoming more green, gray or blue based on mood or surroundings. She knew she was biased but she'd never seen eyes like his before, never seen green like that before. Brown flecked the inner ring, but blue bordered the outside, a light blue that would shine when he would cry. But the green would deepen in joy, darken in lust, and radiate when he would catch her eye. She thought the swirling and brilliant spiral of the Speed Force as it appeared had been stunning, but it paled in comparison to the captivating nebula that she saw when she looked into her lover's eyes. Like a gravitational pull, her gaze was always drawn to his. Maybe it was the way he looked at her, with endless admiration and undeniable attraction. Maybe it was the twinkle he had, the smile they held, and that even when he didn't say a word she knew every feeling he had as they flickered across his eyes. She hoped he could see the reflection of that love in her own because her love for him was the endless kind. It may not have been love at first sight for her like it had been for him, but the second he caught her eye and she saw him the way she'd always felt for him in her heart, she couldn't look away.

When lying in bed she would watch him as he slept, fingers tracing the freckles on his skin, connecting them with her finger in random patterns. She knew them all, better than the stars in the sky she had spent looking up at on her lonely nights, trying to imagine where in the universe Barry actually was. She could close her eyes and point them out from memory, the dots on his flesh not the dots in the sky, but why would she want to now when she no longer had to imagine him. He was in front of her, and she could follow the contours of his jaw as she tracked her eyes across his face, could count the seconds between deep breaths as she watched the rise and fall of his chest as he slept, and could feel the twitch of his fingers that she loosely held in hers as he dreamed.

Watching over him as he slept was not a new experience for her. When Barry had been in the coma, she would visit him almost every other day. She would talk for hours with no response, his body unmoving except for the slow rise and fall of his chest aided at first by a ventilator and then when he stabilized, by a nasal cannula. She had hated the sight of the wires, the tubing stretching across his face to be tucked behind his ears, obscuring the view of the face she knew so well, constantly reminding her that he was not just sleeping but was ill. But the beep of the monitors would remind her it was necessary, they were helping him not hurting him and she eventually got used to the image. It was amazing what you could get used to in nine months; the once uncomfortable bedside chairs, machines beeping in the background constantly, one-sided conversations, and crying quietly almost weekly as the figure in the bed slept through it all. What she had never gotten used to though was not having him present in her life. But at least he had been there for her to see, for her to touch. Not like these past six months where he was completely out of her reach.

As if he could sense she needed to see him awake, his eyes fluttered open. His eyes smiled at her before his mouth could catch up, the corners of lips lifting in a sleepy grin. She didn't smile back even though she wanted to, her own eyes teary and his lips turned down in concern.

"Iris?" he questioned, voice thick with sleep.

"I've watched you leave too many times, Barry," she said suddenly, unable to stop the words. "I watched you die over and over in that coma after the lightning. I watched you lie broken and bruised after Zoom, your heart stopping as Caitlin tried to stabilize you. That time you tried to get your powers back, so many times in that uniform and then watching you walking away into the Speed Force." Her voice was barely above a whisper as she stared at him, tears silently rolling down her cheeks. "I've watched you leave, _felt_ you leave so many times, Barry. And every time your heart stops it feels like my heart stops too."

He shifted closer to her in the bed, reaching a hand out to brush the backs of his fingers across her cheek, wiping away her tears. His other hand reached for her left hand, the one adorned in the engagement ring, clasping it over hers as he brought it to press against his bare chest.

"It's still beating," he whispered, staring into her eyes with a promise. It brought her back to the moment when he first woke up and came to her at Jitters. She had been pouring coffee, saw him coming through the door and at first she thought she was imagining it. For nine months she spent her days waiting for him, searching the crowds for his face. But then he became real as he walked towards her and she stopped breathing in the moment as her gaze captured his, as she ran towards him and leaped into his arms, the same arms that were moving around her to pull her close to him now. What she would have given to live that moment again six months ago.

She could feel his heart beating fast beneath her hand. Better than being able to see him now was feeling him. The warmth of his body, the smooth lean muscles, the slight stubble on the shaven face, the softness of his brown hair, the feel of his skin pressed up against hers. It was like he was an extension of her own body, the feeling of a phantom limb while we he was gone.

"Will you marry me?" she whispered, staring into his eyes as she pressed her body as close to him as she could, lifting her hand from where she had felt his heart beating to trace his jawline with her fingers.

"I think we established that already," he chuckled as his fingers lightly traced patterns on her back as he held her.

"I mean soon," Iris said, leaning her right elbow against the pillow to prop her head up, resting it upon her palm. Her left hand traveled from his cheek to brush his hair out of his face. "I don't want to wait much longer to be Iris West-Allen. I want to say our vows, I want to be yours. I want you to be mine."

"I've always been yours," Barry replied, leaning in to press his lips against hers. He kissed her deeply and slowly, breathing her in as Iris did the same, trying as if they could put every ounce of what they felt for each other into one kiss. She brought both hands to his neck as they shifted till he was lying on his back and she lay atop him. Their tongues danced behind sealed lips and Iris could swear she felt sparks. She could feel tears in her eyes as she felt Barry's smile against her mouth. They pulled away slowly and Iris folded her arms over Barry's chest, resting her head upon them as she gazed at Barry as he took her face in his hands, running the pads of his thumbs over her cheeks.

"I love you, Iris," Barry's voice was shaky but firm, trying to express to her just what he needed her to hear. "If every moment led us here, than it was worth it. I'm sor-"

"Shhh," she brought a finger to his lips, cutting off his apology. She knew he felt awful about leaving her behind. She knew why he had to, but to be left behind hurt, to have him walk away from their future without consulting her was difficult even though she knew why he had to. They had communication issues they had to work out, but what couple didn't. What mattered was they had the chance now to move forward together.

Iris thought about all the things she could say to him but she couldn't find any of the words. Their love was the most profound thing in her life and no words could express that to him enough. Her heart had never been so full before. So instead of floundering for insufficient sentiments, Iris instead leaned down and pressed her lips against his. It was a simple kiss, lasting no more than a few seconds, but it was forceful and expressed the four letter word he said more to her than her name. She needed him to feel it, needed him to know how much having him here home with her meant. As she pulled away, the look of love and lust that gleamed in his eyes she knew were a mirror reflection of her own. Tonight he was here, and tonight she would show him just how much that meant to her.

* * *

When Barry returned, he spent a lot of time in his head. Everything was familiar to him but it was like seeing it with new eyes. Everything felt familiar but it was like his heart was feeling it all with a new intensity. His love ran deeper, his gratitude for what he had swelled, and the enthusiasm he once possessed for his powers that had been dimmed with the struggles of the past few years were set a blaze once more.

Leaving his family behind was the hardest thing he'd ever done but the easiest decision he'd ever made. They were his life but he had to save them. Knowing now the agony he put them through, that guilt would be hard to process for a while. But he'd be lying if he didn't feel like his time in the Speed Force was exactly what he needed. Joe had once told him that he had never let the darkness dim his soul, but the past two years Barry had begun to feel that to be untrue. The weight of the whole city on his shoulders, the knowledge that despite his powers he could never save his mom, the heartbreak of never really getting the chance to be his father's son, and the constant fear that he was putting people he loved in danger just by having them in his life, it had started to bury him. He had everything he wanted, was in love with Iris, was helping people, friends and family that filled him with joy, yet he couldn't be happy. For the first time, Barry felt like he had been letting his tragedies pull him down. He needed a change, he needed to reclaim who he was, needed to find peace with the balance of light and dark in his life.

His time in the Speed Force was an indescribable experience. What he saw, what he felt, he couldn't put into words. It was a purgatory, an infinite in-between that held both hell and heaven at arms length, suffering yet feeling blessed at the same time. Being pulled out of it left him scrambled, a jumbled mess of trying to process what he'd been through and trying to reclaim what he'd been before. It took some time, but eventually he found his center.

It wasn't the same as before, _he_ wasn't the same before. The experience was like a baptism, a purification, a rebirth, a regeneration inside of him. For the first time, he could grieve the loss of his parents without being in mourning, could appreciate the gift of his powers, could love without fear. For the first time in his life he felt like he actually had the choice to be happy, that he could greet each day knowing who he was, knowing who he could be, and knowing that he was finally and truly home.


End file.
